


In Faith's Shadow

by snowpuppies



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Dark, Drug Use, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-06
Updated: 2009-04-06
Packaged: 2017-10-02 07:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowpuppies/pseuds/snowpuppies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The events of <span class="u">Five by Five</span> go differently. This is the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Faith's Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [Kitty Poker](http://kitty-poker1.livejournal.com/).   
> Special thanks to [Gabrielle](http://velvetwhip.livejournal.com) and [Nene](http://jasonsnene.livejournal.com/) for poking me until this fic took shape.
> 
>  
> 
> Written as part of Twinkies for Xander over at [Ultimate Xander](http://community.livejournal.com/ultimate_xander).

 

  
"Help."

The word sounded wrong on her lips, somehow, as if there was a stranger in her skin—she knew what that felt like, too.

The silence between them was an elephant in the room, pressing against her skin like a vice, smothering her with her own desperation and blunt honesty.

In a moment, he shifted towards her, something fierce in his expression that—at the same time—scared the hell out of her and made her lean unconsciously closer. Slowly, he knelt on the ugly carpet next to her, his hand finding hers on the threshold.

"Alright," he whispered, the words a soothing balm against her crumbling will.

His fingers were warm and solid against her skin.

Sighing softly, she leaned against the door frame, eyes fluttering shut in the cool of the night.

 

***

 

_The tip of the needle sank beneath her skin, pressing insistently into one of her few good veins. A long, grimy finger depressed the plunger, the barrel slowly emptying of its contents._

_And then…_

_…bliss._

_As the drug made its way through her system, the clamor and stench and madness of the world slipped away._

_The voices stopped. _

_The look of betrayal on Angel's face as the bolt flew true and embedded in his unbeating heart faded._

_The ache in her own chest that she'd carried since that moment, grew dull._

_And all was five by five._

_Flying high, she barely noticed as calloused hands tugged at the zipper of her jeans, pulling them down until one of her legs was free. Sighing, she slumped against the wall, bricks scratchy against her bare ass as she was lifted, feet over broad shoulders, panties dangling from one ankle, grunting quietly as something pressed inside. Her eyes slid closed as the body locked with her own rutted against her, flushed cock pistoning in and out of her cunt, breath foul and warm and sticky against her neck._

_Smiling, she leaned against the wall, arms stretching upwards to caress the rough bricks as the man fucking her body began to grunt, jerkily banging into her thighs, hot spittle splashing against her exposed shoulders._

_Grinning wickedly, she squeezed her internal muscles around his prick, her hollow chuckles echoing through the alley. He cursed, fingers sinking into her hips, shuddering and spasming as he emptied himself into her pussy._

_Head lolling, she winced as he slipped from her and she began the descent to the ground._

_Finally, the supportive arms vanished, and she slumped, boneless, amongst the rubble. _

_Humming quietly, her eyes slowly slid shut as the sound of retreating footsteps filled her ears._

_She didn't wake when gentle hands pulled her up, carefully replacing her panties and jeans, then lifted her into strong arms and carried her away._

 

***

 

She banged on the door.

Her hands were twitching—withdrawal or nerves or bone-numbing, blood-curdling fear, take your pick—and she lifted them to bang once more.

The door disappeared beneath her fists as it swung open.

He stared, brown eyes cataloguing the bruises on her face and along her arms, the trails of blood down her neck and shoulder, crimson smears on her cheek and hands and clothes.

She stared back, mouth open, heart beating in her chest, every breath heavy and full and vital, anchoring her to reality.

Reality, where she'd nearly died.

Where she'd screwed up—so much.

So much.

Reality, where there was no going back. No do-overs or fucking re-writes; just events, set into motion; words, irretrievable; actions, irreversible.

Faith Lehane's shadow was following her, and she'd never escape.

She took a step forward, reaching to clutch at the doorframe as he watched—still silent—waiting for her to speak.

"I…"

His face softened, just a bit, and the words stuck—a twenty-seven car pile-up in her throat.

She looked down; the carpet was orange and the edge along the wall was unraveling a bit.

Something large and overwhelming was rising in her chest, a panic she couldn't stifle, fear she couldn't stamp out, anger she couldn't release on a demon's tough skin, and—worst of all—the flickering pulse of hope she couldn't seem to put out.

Breathless, she sank to her knees, fingers sliding down the rough texture of the doorframe, knees landing on the itchy welcome mat.

It was finally the end.

Glassy-eyed, she looked up at his silhouette against the overhead light and choked out one word.

 

***

 

_Something had died in her mouth._

_Something fuzzy._

_"Unh." _

_"Morning, Sunshine."_

_Squinting into the brightness, she noticed a figure by the bed. Bleary-eyed, she identified light skin, brown hair, and two dark smudges that she thought might have been eyes. The voice was definitely male, and as he was sitting in a direct beam of sunlight from the window next to the bed— Oh. She was asleep on a bed. She glanced down at the pale yellow sheets and relaxed a bit._

_Not undead, then._

_Still, she was a bit puzzled—she didn't normally go home with Joe Normal after a bit of slap and tickle—and in spite of Slayer healing, she could still tell it was heavy on the slap._

_She yawned and stretched, blinking until her vision came into focus._

_Holy shit._

_"Xander?"_

_"I've been known to answer to that, yes."_

_Great. She raked through her hair with shaky fingers, getting caught up in a tangle or two. _

_Usually she had an hour, maybe two, before the cravings hit, before the clenching in her gut and the prickles down the spine and across the back of her neck became so great she had to score another hit—**now**. _

_From there, the visions came. _

_And then the guilt._

_And then the crushing weight on her chest, the sharp press of a blade in her gut, the sure knowledge that you were fucked, everyone else was fucked, and you were the head fucker. _

_And now she was looking Xander Harris in the face._

_She could still feel his hands scrabbling against her fingers, body thrashing uncontrollably beneath her own, bucking up into her, untutored and eager to please, his face turning blue, gasping in pleasure, grasping for breath, mounted and pinned and enthusiastic and helpless…_

_She had to get out._

_Now._

_"Fuck off." She scowled, throwing the bedclothes back and scrambling to her feet. "Where's the door, Jerkalot?" she called over her shoulder, exiting the room and prowling down a shadowed hallway covered in cheap paneling. Felt a lot like home. _

_"Hey, Faith?" Xander's voice floated down the hallway. _

_Grimacing, she ignored his call and continued to stomp away. As she crossed into a hideously avocado green kitchen, her toe caught on a rusty threshold strip that was a bit loose and she faltered, slipping on the worn-smooth linoleum._

_Glancing down at her feet, she paused: Where were her shoes? Where were her **pants**?_

_"You might want to put on some clothes."_

_She growled and strode back to the bedroom._

_Harris hadn't moved an inch. _

_White-knuckled, she jerked her jeans from the floor, yanking them on and stuffing her feet into her shoes. _

_She didn't spare Xander a glance before turning and running for the door._

_As she escaped into the morning, she heard him call, "Good to see you too, Faith."_

_She didn't answer._

 

***

 

She struggled to her feet, wincing as a pain in her side made itself known.

Right.

She'd been injured.

Raising her shirt, she checked the area visually in the light of a streetlamp, satisfied that she wasn't spilling her guts everywhere—not yet, anyways—and walked towards the open street.

She didn't glance back at the body, pale and colorless and cold, sprawled between a dumpster and a broken shipping pallet.

 

***

 

_She stared at the red-and-white checked tablecloth, mechanically shoving bites of greasy cheeseburger into her mouth._

_Most of the time, whatever cash she could scrounge up—picking pockets and beating up likely looking suspects—went towards easing the itching along her scalp, the prickle along her spine, the hot ache for the prick of a needle, but sometimes the cramps in her stomach overrode everything, and Maralou's Diner was full of greasy, hot, cheap food._

_"Long time, no see."_

_Too bad about the clientele._

_"Mind if I sit?"_

_Place had gone to shit, really._

_"No? Don't mind if I do."_

_She swallowed roughly, coughing a little around the dry bread. "Can't you take a hint?"_

_"You'd think…but no, not really. Too many knocks to the head in my formative years."_

_"What do you want?" She glanced through her hair when he didn't speak for several moments, eyebrow cocked at his furrowed forehead. _

_"I…don't really know."_

_"Well, figure it out, why don'tcha, so I can **not** do whatever it is and get on with the rest of the story."_

_"Yeah. Whatever's left."_

_"Fuck off."_

_"Been there, done that. Didn't get a t-shirt, just a lovely necklace. Of bruises. **Around my neck**."_

_"You want another?" She scowled, ignoring the way her hands clenched, remembering his pulse beneath her fingertips. _

_"You know, I think I'll pass, but thanks for the offer."_

_She grunted, glaring at her hamburger; the bun was squished with her fingerprints. Sighing, she took another bite, chewing mechanically until the growling in her stomach died away. Around a mouthful of fries, she mumbled, "Where were we, you know, before?"_

_"Dingoes crash-pad. When they're on the road, Oz leaves the keys with me so I can keep an eye out."_

_"Huh." She crammed her dirty napkin and burger wrapper into the fry container with a little too much force—it popped open at the end. _

_The itch was beginning to return. _

_"So, I heard you took care of our vampire problem."_

_"Don't know what you're yapping about."_

_"Tall? Broody? Sorta squarish? Goes 'grrr' when he gets a happy?"_

_"Leave it."_

_"I mean, I'm not complaining, here. Would a steady stream of accolades and shiny trophies be too much?"_

_"Xander, shut up." The room was turning white. _

_"How 'bout a plaque—you could hang it in the alley where you pass out every night."_

_Then red. _

_"That's it." The clunk of the chair clattering to the ground echoed through the diner as she jumped from her seat and headed towards the door. When warm, strong fingers clamped around her arm, she wheeled around, pressing a forearm under Xander's chin—pinning him against the grimy window—while the other drew a blade from her waistband. _

_It glinted in the afternoon sun._

_"Let. Go." _

_"Are you sure you want me to?"_

_She pressed the blade against his skin, the tip pushing into the sensitive flesh, the barest movement away from spilling his blood all over the dingy linoleum floor._

_Dark brown eyes held her gaze, unflinching._

_"What's your damage, Harris? Got a death wish I can help you with?"_

_"Not so much." He blinked, his tongue flickering out to wet his lips._

_"Aren't you afraid I'm gonna finish the job? No Angel here to save you this time—I saw to that."_

_"Ok. Yeah, I'm a little in the wetting-my-pants territory, but I figure I'm not the one who's between Zeus's crosshairs right now."_

_"And how d'you figure that?"_

_"Because you're more afraid of you than I am."_

_She flinched, trembling as his face softened. Stumbling back blindly, she grabbed a nearby table for balance, gaze riveted to Xander Harris's goddamned knowing eyes. _

_Suddenly, a wave of need—blistering hot and freezing cold and snatching the very breath from her chest—swept across her body and she staggered towards the door, still watching the play of emotions across his face. _

_"Just leave me the fuck alone," she whispered, before she turned and bolted out of the diner._

 

***

 

Pain pierced her consciousness as she struggled to move.

There was something important to do.

 

Something important.

 

She blinked into the darkness, eyes focusing on the body covering her own, awareness pulled to the pain…

…in her neck.

 

Eyes wide, she screamed, grabbing a fistful of hair and ripping the mouth from her neck, bucking and flipping and scrambling for a stake—she was a Slayer, needed a stake—fingers finding a bloody piece of a 1x4, striking hard and fast and…

…finally falling through the ash to the ground.

 

Fingers fumbled at her neck, pressing against the wound as her eyes scanned the alley for others. There were no vamps in sight, but there was a body.

It was the girl.

Of course it was the girl; she didn’t think she'd actually save someone, did she?

Fuck-ups didn't get anything right.

For a moment, she stared into those glazed green eyes, ringed with the purple-grey shadows of the dead.

She'd read this book before.

 

A strange noise echoed in the narrow space between the buildings, something like a wounded animal, keening and harsh and sharp and after a moment…

…she realized it was coming from her.

 

Still holding her throat, she slumped over, forehead falling to rest against the pale yellow shirt of the girl—it was soft and smelled like the fabric softener Joyce liked to use—and blinked as moisture fell onto her cheeks.

 

***

 

_The grit of dirt and oil and the garbage of three different restaurants crunched beneath her feet as she strode into the alley. He was there, as expected, slouched casually against the brick, lust spreading across his face as she came nearer. _

_"Thought you'd never show, baby." Grinning crookedly, he pushed away from the wall, slinking closer._

_Never shortening her stride, she shoved him back and plunged her hand into his coat pocket._

_"Whoa! What about my payment, sugar?"_

_"Just gimme the fucking smack, already." She continued her search as his hands slid under her top, fingers finding the button of her jeans and tugging it loose, slipping inside to grasp at her ass. _

_"Oh, you'll get it." A hand slid into her panties. "How about a little down payment first?"_

_"Hey!" A very familiar voice echoed through the alley._

_She blinked as the dealer was ripped from her grasp and thrown against the wall._

_"Christ, Xander!" Grasping his shoulders, she tugged him away from the dealer, turning him around to face her. "What the Hellmouth is your problem?"_

_"You don't need to do this."_

_Fingers knotted in his collar, she pulled him down into her personal space, his dark eyes inches from her own. "I don't do anything I don't want to do. Got that?"_

_"You don't want to do this." He sounded completely certain._

_Damn him._

_"None of your business. So we had a rough-and-tumble once—welcome to the club!—it doesn’t mean shit. So just go home and jerk off to Princess Buffy like a good doormat, alright?" With a growl, she shoved him away, turning towards…_

_…the empty alley._

_"Fuck!"_

_She could feel the tremors start in her hands; soon it would spread across her whole body. Clenching her fingers, she lashed out, the sickening crunch of her knuckles against brick loud in the small space. _

_Pain blossomed in her hand and spread, grounding her through the shivering desire for oblivion._

_She exhaled heavily, shaking her shoulders until she could feel the twisted muscles begin to relax. The game was still on; she knew where to get more. _

_Without turning, she tugged her jeans into place, addressing that shadow that was still hovering over her shoulder—"I don't need your help"—before stalking away._

_As she maneuvered through the dumpsters, she heard his voice floating over the noise of the late evening traffic._

_"No. You don't need it. But you deserve it."_

_She didn't turn around. _

_There was H to score._

 

***

 

The world was spinning.

She floated, high above the rat-infested alley her body was stumbling down, smooth and cool and five by fucking five.

Vaguely, she noticed a group of figures up ahead. Four, no, five bodies were grouped together under a small awning that hung above the doorway of a brick building painted green. Four strapping young men that made parts between her legs throb in want, and…a little girl.

Twelve, maybe thirteen.

She looked a little like Dawn, long dark hair and, as Faith approached, she could make out big eyes that were more green than blue, but still…

 

Fuck it.

She didn't care.

 

Hands in her pockets, she kept walking, reaching for the peaceful oblivion she'd felt only moments before. She watched as her feet hit the pavement one…

After…

 

Another…

 

After…

 

An—

 

A scream filled the air.

Heart in her throat, she whipped around, arms flailing a moment so she could find her balance before she bolted in the direction of the scream.

Three of the guys had formed a crude half-circle around their buddy, who had the girl pressed against the wall—Faith could see her little hands clutching at the grubby green bricks. With a yell, she pulled one of the goons from the circle, spinning him around to face her.

His yellow eyes glinted at her in the dim alleyway.

Vampire, then.

She swung at his face, landing a blow across his cheekbone, stumbling a bit before finally grabbing his shoulders and pulling him to the ground as she fell. She rolled, flipping them over and over across the alley, until they came to rest on a broken pallet. The body beneath disappeared and she fell into the rubble.

As she pulled herself to her feet, something tugged at her jacket; slipping a hand beneath the material, she found a piece of the pallet.

It was buried in her side.

 

Should feel familiar, really.

 

Pulling the makeshift stake free from her own body, she ran forward, full-tilt, into the fight.

 

 

 

_FIN_.

 

Originally archived [here](http://snowpuppies.livejournal.com/247999.html).


End file.
